


All Through the Night

by Professional_Creeper



Category: Halloween (2007)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Age Difference, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lullabies, Psychological Trauma, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7544947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professional_Creeper/pseuds/Professional_Creeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you hear Laurie last night?”<br/>“Yes, dad. I hear her <i>every</i> night." </p><p>Laurie Strode still suffers unrelenting nightmares after facing off with Michael Myers last Halloween, losing her parents, and half her friends in the massacre. The only way she feels safe enough to sleep peacefully is when Sheriff Brackett is nearby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It all began innocently enough.

Laurie Strode had come to live with the Bracketts nearly a year ago, after the world she once knew had shattered around her. It didn't stop the nightmares. The sheriff set her up in her own bedroom, with a warm bed, in a pleasant, suburban home, but there was no veneer of normalcy that could bring back her family, or take away what she knew about herself.

She was a killer.

Her chest heaved, and her racing heart beat against her ribcage. She didn't realize she was still screaming until the door tore open, and there was Mr. Brackett, eyes so wide with alarm she could see the whites of them gleaming in the dark hallway. She kicked at the tangled sheets around her leg like an animal in a trap until they came loose and spilled to the floor.

“Laurie, sweetie, are you alright?”

“Y-yes, Mr. B. I'm fine,” she tried to say with flippant defiance, but the words came out shaky and weak. Tangles of blonde hair matted against the cold perspiration beading across her face.

“No, you're not,” he shook his head, brows pinching together in concern.

“I said I'm alright,” she repeated more forcefully, stopping him from advancing any farther. “This is _my_ room.”

“Okay, you're right. I'm sorry,” he hastily backed out, half-closing the door. “But, can I get you anything? Some chamomile? Warm milk?”

“How about a fucking Valium?”

“I, uh… is that one of your prescriptions?” he scratched his head earnestly. Her medicine cabinet was filled with little amber-colored bottles that were supposed to make her brain work the way it did before last Halloween. They weren't helping.

“No,” she huffed, crossing her arms.

“Oh… well, uh, right. I'll leave you alone, then. Just holler if you need anything —”

“Wait!”

He froze, turning back through the doorway.

“Would you maybe… just stay with me for awhile?”

When she had been lost in the rain after shooting Michael Myers, the man who had murdered her entire family, Brackett's voice was the first one that called out to her. He had found her, staggering aimless and empty inside, still clutching the gun. She was covered in so much blood, it was impossible to tell what was hers, and what was Myers'. The kind-eyed sheriff called her name, put his hand on her shoulder, and her mind cleared. She remembered who she was.

Now, he was the eye of her hurricane. When he was near, he brought a moment of quiet back to her ravaged world.

“Well, sure sweetheart,” he smiled warmly.

“No, I know, it's stupid, I just —”

“It's alright. Don't tell her I told you, but Annie used to make me sing her lullabies every night, or she wouldn't go to bed,” he whispered, picking the sheet up off the floor, and carefully tucking her back in. “There you are.”

“What kind of stuff did you sing?” she asked with conspicuously deliberate nonchalance. A smile tugged up the corners of his lips, and his horseshoe mustache parodied the movement. Thanks to that mustache fringing his mouth, she could tell he was smiling from a mile away in the dark. She tugged the blanket up to her chin, and pretended not to be glad when he pulled a chair up to the bedside, and cleared his throat.

“Sorry if I'm out of practice,” he mumbled, before letting a low, soft melody growl from his throat. She watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall with the scales as he sang a folk song, buzzing under his breath so as not to wake Annie down the hall, until she was hypnotized by its rhythmic movement. She smiled peacefully, whispered notes filling up the dark corners of her room, until her eyelids slid shut.


	2. Chapter 2

Her eyes flew open, and she sucked in a breath like she had been drowning. She patted down her neck, and brought her fingers away to check for red staining liquid. Just sweat. She shuddered, remembering the cold steel that had moments ago pressed into her throat and opened up rivers of hot blood. She squeezed her eyes shut to lose the image, but behind her closed eyes, there was the pale mask again.

It was always there, waiting.

The blanket once again uselessly entangled her ankles. The melody had gone, and the demons of the dark had taken over the empty room. Her whole body shivered.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, hopping away as soon as her feet touched down, in case someone was hiding under there to grab her. Her soft footfalls raced down the hallway to his bedroom.

The knob turned and the door creaked open — he never locked it — and her heart already slowed. There he was, snoring and hugging a pillow as he slept without fear. She almost remembered what that was like. He didn't wake up right away as she approached, and suddenly she wasn't sure what exactly she came here for. Just to be close? Just to be somewhere that her mind could be a little more at ease. Not that he offered her any real protection in this state.

His long mousy hair was strewn in untamed waves across the pillows, freed and completely different from when he had it neatly slicked into a ponytail for his crisp Sheriff's uniform. He looked professional, and serious when he was on duty, but when he let his hair wild, he was more like a hippie ready for Woodstock.

His blue eyes met hers, and both gasped simultaneously. Laurie reeled backwards, and Brackett shot upright in bed.

“Jesus, Laurie, you'll give me a heart attack,” he panted, clutching a hand to his chest. He chuckled away his momentary surprise, and yawned, “What… what are you doing, sweetheart?”

Parts of her night shirt were soaked through with sweat, and dark rings circled her red eyes. He guessed at _why_ she was up before she had to say.

“I can't…” she whined, like one out of options. She didn't know what she wanted, or how to ask without sounding pathetic, but with so little energy left, she let everything tearfully spill out. “I can't fucking sleep. The nightmares keep coming back, every time I close my eyes. I just want them to stop. I want to be a normal 19 year old girl, but I can't. I just want my life back…”

He sat up in bed, leaning back on his palms, and listened intently. His own blue eyes watered in empathy for the rivulets streaming down her cheeks. “I know, sweetie…”

“Can I sleep here?”

He blinked.

“Look, I'm just, I'm desperate, okay? As soon as I'm alone, I just… Well, you fucking hear me, I know I'm a mess. I just want to make it through one fucking night, that's all…”

“Okay. Alright. But… why don't you sleep in Annie's room, then?”

“I can't… _God_. It's my fault what happened to her, you know that, right? Every time I see that scar on her face… I know it's my fault —”

“It's not your fault.”

“—God. We're both fucked up. I don't know how she holds it together. No, I couldn't. Besides, you're the only one I feel safe around. I actually fell asleep tonight because you were there. I just need… a little more.”

In the dark, desaturated light of the bedroom, his blush was only detectable as a sudden deepening of shade spreading over his face. “Well, I'm flattered, but — Laurie!”

She was already climbing into bed with him, pulling up the blankets and slipping under them. He sputtered. She settled back against a pillow, and closed her eyes. “Mmm, yes,” she said in a satisfied, drawn-out hiss.

“You wanna sleep right _here?_ I thought you meant… I… I can go sleep on the couch, if you—”

“—No!” she grabbed his wrist. “Here. That's the whole point. I can't sleep alone, I need you next to me. Don't worry, Mr. B,” she chuckled, “I promise I'll keep my hands to myself.”

“I'm just not sure it's… appropriate…” he surreptitiously glanced down at his pajamas and made sure nothing was exposed.

“What, don't tell me you have _sexomnia_ or something? I'm not worried. I just… think I could sleep better here. I'm so tired. Please?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose in thought, he sighed, “Alright, if it'll help you sleep,” and shook his head with a laugh. “Reminds me of when Annie was a baby. She'd run in here buck-naked and holler 'till we let her curl up between me and her mom.” He smiled wistfully.

“You, uh… want me to get naked?” Laurie grinned.

He threw a pillow at her. “ _Go to sleep_.”


	3. Chapter 3

For the first time in five months, her eyes opened because of the morning sunlight dancing over her lids — not because of a screaming nightmare. She had slept without terror for four solid hours, a new record, and she felt… _relaxed_. She didn't know she could do that anymore.

The sleepy stillness only lasted a moment before it gave way to a new panic. Soft breathing and scratchy whiskers tickled her ear, and she realized she had her arm tight around her best friend's dad, head pressed to his chest.

“Shit,” she mouthed silently. _Why'd I do that? How embarrassing._

She slowly extracted herself, and thanked every moment he continued snoring soundly. It was as though nothing could shake him, even as she moved off the mattress, making it spring up and readjust with her weight. A movement like that in _her_ bed, while _she_ slept, and she would have been wide awake in an instant, clawing at the intruder's face. He radiated calm, even asleep. _Like a big, cuddly teddy bear_ , she thought. He probably hadn't even noticed she broke her promise.

Tip-toeing out of his room, she cringed at every creaky floorboard, and dove into her own bedroom before Annie woke up and noticed where she had spent the night. “I swear I wasn't fucking your dad,” Laurie imagined the conversation and laughed out loud.

It _had_ started innocently enough. Laurie swore to herself it would only be that one time.

When Mr. Brackett came to breakfast that morning, he shifted, and cleared his throat when he saw her. She nearly smacked him for being so obvious, but Annie was too busy making pancakes to notice anything off. She gave an annoyed, “You're quiet this morning, dad.”

“Am I?” he replied, trying too hard to sound surprised.

“We're just so hungry,” she growled playfully. “When is food? I'll eat the batter!”

“God Laurie, you're an animal. Patience.”

That was that. Everything back to normal. Incident forgotten, and never mentioned again. Laurie didn't want to risk Annie ever finding out she had slept with her dad, even if only literally. Annie was the glue holding her new family together. If she had succumbed to her wounds, Laurie didn't think she would have made it, either. Sheriff Brackett would have been too destroyed by the loss to take care of a homeless teenager with mental problems. He was a caring dad, and she loved that about him.

Now, she just wasn't sure if she loved him like a father, or something else.

She told herself her arms wound up around him because he was comforting, like a pillow. It was a reflex, nothing more.

But as the week went on, the nightmares returned, and so did the bags under her eyes. She swore it was only going to be that _one time_ … but she couldn't think clearly. The visions of Michael Myers cutting her over and over again were always waiting behind her eyes, waiting for her to be alone in the dark.

She remembered the steady rise and fall of Brackett's chest, and his glowing warmth that chased the storm away. She remembered waking up rested. It was less than a week before she was desperate with sleep deprivation, enough to risk her surrogate sister finding out.

The sheriff was out on a late-night shift, and Annie had already turned in for the night. Laurie wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway, until she knew he was coming home safe. She would wait for him, she thought. She would ask him to sing her another lullaby. To sit vigil by her bedside. Perhaps, to crawl under the covers with her, and hold her steady until her eyes could close without fear.

 _Completely innocent_ , she thought.


End file.
